Shape in the Shadows
by chrizzy0789
Summary: "He felt his hands shake and grabbed on tight to the edges of the console, so no one would see. The Colonel turned around to look at him, but was apparently not bothered by what he was hearing. Why would he be? They were losing anyway." The First Order is collapsing and there's this one pilot who keeps destroying Meelan Bendar's plans.


**Shape in the Shadows**

Corellia was lost. They had no chance of reclaiming it with the ships engaged in battle and the last ground troops obliterated only minutes ago. This battle had already ended. This war was over.

Captain Meelan Bendar was staring out into space from his position aboard the bridge of the Destroyer _Victorious_ , at the utter blackness dotted with stars, at the red and green laser salvos whizzing between their last remaining Star Destroyers, the Ties protecting them and their enemies. At that alliance of Resistance fighters and smugglers which had most definitely decided the war in its favour months ago. Years even. The Ties had no chance against the overwhelming force facing them. Three of them were obliterated by one single Resistance pilot in his X-Wing within seconds. Meelan forced himself to look down at the console again. At his fingers moving over the buttons embedded in the shiny surface, doing his best to break the code, which hid the Rebel's comm chatter from them. Why he was even doing this, at this particular moment, now that they were about to lose anyway, was unfathomable, but he had his orders and orders had to be obeyed, just like procedures had to be followed to the last. As an explosion shook the entire ship, putting him off balance so he stumbled to the right, he only just managed to hold on to the console. He pushed one last button and the voices of pilots without helmets blasted from the speakers in front of him.

"Satora is hit."

"Great work, Purple Three. I'm taking out the other one!"

"There are only about a hundred Ties left!"

"Let's take 'em out and end this!"

"Blue One, was hit! Damn it! Karé, can you hear me?!" That voice! It gave Meelan a start. He knew that voice. How could he possibly forget it. He felt his hands shake and grabbed on tight to the edges of the console, so no one would see. The Colonel turned around to look at him, but was apparently not bothered by what he was hearing. Why would he be? They were losing anyway. Why would he care? If it came out now, that he had let that pilot go, that he had even orchestrated his escape, there would be no consequences. He was sure. That thought alone sent an icy shiver down his spine. The First Order was done. Once and for all. No one cared about his one, albeit catastrophic, disobedience now. Poe Dameron was alive but no one cared about that now.

"Get out of here, Karé!" Him again! Meelan would never forget that voice. That face. He had never, not once in his life, cared about a prisoner, about someone who needed to be questioned and why.

He didn't now.

His brother had been the only reason why he hadn't been able to perform his duty. To finish Dameron off. And now that voice caused that stabbing pain in his chest he had felt, when he had found out about Dameron and Morap. His weak, innocent, little brother, who had always been too emotional to make it in the Order and who had paid for his foolishness with his life.

"Lieutenant Kayla!" Colonel Mitaka, the Commander of the ship, who was standing near the viewscreens at the very front, shouted over the heads of the other officers and turning to face the young woman making her way in his direction. Meelan, who was standing near them, tried to focus on them rather than the continuous comm chatter they were picking up now. Every time he heard Dameron's voice he felt a pang of guilt which had nothing to do with what he had done to the pilot and everything to do with how he had not been able to perform his duty.

"Sir!" Sadrina Kayla, a Lieutenant who had been stationed on the _Victorious_ only a couple of months ago, was obviously fighting the urge to stare at the starfighter rushing by outside the viewscreen.

"Get my shuttle ready." Mitaka was speaking so quietly so that no one, no one but Meelan, who was standing closest to them, could hear what he was saying. Meelan saw the young woman's eyes widen and her lips were slightly parted as she stared at the Colonel.

"Sir?"

"You heard me. Go. Now. And don't you dare tell anyone."

Kayla hesitated for a moment and Meelan could tell, that Mitaka was already regretting his decision to send the young woman to prepare his escape. Meelan felt a sudden urge to leave his station and punch his commanding officer in the face. He had never seen an officer behave like such a coward. It was against all regulation and any sense of allegiance an officer like him should feel towards the First Order! Meelan balled his hands into fists, ready to walk towards his superior officer, grab him by the collar and knock some sense into him.

When Mitaka caught his eyes, Meelan hurried to look down at the console again, but from his peripheral vision he picked up how Mitaka gently took hold of the young woman's hand and Meelan felt a sudden twinge of sympathy for him as he understood what was going on here. "Captain Bendar!"

Meelan's head snapped back up again. Mitaka's brown eyes were fixated on Kayla's face. He did not want to get involved in this. Not now. Not ever, but when the Colonel ordered him to step closer, he did, leaving the console and Dameron's orders at Karé to withdraw behind. "Colonel?" He stood up straight, not looking at the young Lieutenant, whose hand Mitaka had let go of.

"Captain, I want you to take Lieutenant Kayla to my shuttle and help her prepare it for take-off." Mitaka still hadn't taken his eyes off the woman standing in front of him as red light from the explosions taking place outside illuminated his face. So this was it. Mitaka had given up. Surrendered to the inevitable.

Meelan threw a quick look at the Lieutenant, whose light blonde hair and delicate features made her appear even younger than she probably was and Meelan felt a sudden aching pain in his chest. Sadrina Kayla must be only a couple of years younger than his wife had been when he had first met her. Nataleeh was just as delicate in appearance and just as vulnerable. This was his opportunity to get back to her. To his wife and child, whom he hadn't seen in over a year. A sudden, bright explosion outside the viewscreen made him flinch and he turned his head. The _Finalizer_ was breaking apart, almost splitting down the middle. That only meant that Hux was gone too and with him all other leading officers. Including Nataleeh's father. How would he tell her? How could he? Now, that the planet her mother had been on, had been taken over by the Republic?

"Captain!" Mitaka hissed, turning back to him. "I'm not going to order you to go to the hangar again!"

"Yes, Sir." Meelan was surprised that his voice didn't shake. Everything was ruined. Blasted to bits. Obliterated within a matter of three years after it had taken the Order thirty years to grow.

"Dopheld..." Mitaka's first name issuing from Kayla's lips in a trembling voice made Meelan's insides squirm. He caught Mitaka's eyes again and grabbed her unceremoniously by the arm, dragging her away from the man she couldn't stop staring at. She stumbled as he pulled her along, but this only emphasized the impression he must make on the officers he passed on his way off the bridge. Meelan didn't even look at them, or at her. Not even when she regained her footing and followed him, not looking back anymore. He felt one officer's eyes on him. Meelan had never really talked to him, just sat across from him the last time he had been in the mess hall. No use asking for his name now. He was dead. A living corpse. Just like the rest of them.

His heart pounding in his chest, he dragged her into the corridor, when another explosion knocked him off his feet. He landed heavily on his knees, the impact resonating through his entire body.

"Oh no!" A woman's voice made him whirl around. The blast door to the bridge had closed behind him and with a start he realized what must have happened. His ears were ringing as he got to his feet, dragging Kayla with him, who made to get to the door. Meelan held on tight to her arm. She was shaking all over, her face was as pale as snow. Already he could see officers rushing into the corridor from the adjoining rooms, which had not been hit by the explosion.

"Dopheld!" The tears in her eyes made him angrier than he had been in a long time. She was weak. Weak and spoiled by the preferences Mitaka must have shown her. Had even shown her in his last moments.

"Get a grip!" His snarling voice made her jump. "We're leaving, Lieutenant! Now!" Looking at the other five officers in their black uniforms, their eyes wide in shock as they stared at the closed blast doors and everything they implied, he realized that he was their superior officer now. Outranked them. All of them. And they were all young! So very young! None of them could be older than twenty five.

Meelan took a deep breath and resumed an upright posture. "Follow me!" He didn't reach out to her again. Didn't turn around to look at her, just headed straight for the elevator with as neutral an expression as he could muster, while his insides were churning. It was like a fire was eating him up from the inside and he had to remain calm. Act like he was in control, though he wasn't. Not in the least. The only thing he could think of, when he stepped inside the elevator and turned around to face the other officers who had followed him, was, that he needed to get off this ship. Now. Before it was too late. He needed to get these children away from here. Kayla was wiping the tears from her cheeks, but her face seemed to be frozen in place. One of the young officers was trembling from head to foot. The only thing keeping them from panicking was him and his outward calm.

Meelan clenched his hands into fists, trying to keep his breathing under control. He needed to get them off, was the only thing he allowed himself to think, as the elevator doors closed on them. He could not even begin to think about his family.

They were waiting for him. Those other officers needed him. That meant that he didn't have a whole lot of time. As the borrowed speeder approached the settlement in which he had more or less grown up before joining the Academy, he felt his heart rate pick up. The place where his father had betrayed the First Order. The place his brother Morap had decided to run away. The place his mother still lived. The place he had had to bring his family, because nowhere else had been safe for First Order families anymore.

All was dark. Not even the street lights were on anymore, so as not to draw attention to the houses to attacking Republic ships. Meelan could still find the house without really needing to look for it, even though all the houses looked the same. All of them semi detached. All of them with big glass windows facing the street. All of them with the same outward appearance. Uniform. Ordered. A facade to what was hiding behind it. Just like the First Order was nowadays.

When he stopped the speeder in front of the house he couldn't stop thinking about that time he had arrived here from the Academy with his brother, shortly after Morap's expulsion and only days before his brother had run off. He always remembered the scene which had taken place right here. His mother slapping Morap so hard he fell to the ground and broke his nose. Neither she, nor Meelan had ever seen him again and just at this moment Meelan couldn't help but wonder if Morap would have flown in that last battle between the Order and the Republic. Morap, as far as Meelan had found out, hat been a pilot in the Republic's navy and had been killed in action years and years ago. Would Morap have tried to stay out of this fight or aimed to kill?

Meelan would never know. And he had to remind himself that it wasn't his job to be thinking about the brother he had lost in another life. His job was to take his family away from here. To get them to safety. As quickly as possible, before the Republic took over this planet as well.

After turning off the engine, he opened the speeder's door and got out. It was really late. They were probably asleep. All of them. Not knowing what kind of news he was about to deliver to them. About the First Order. About their ruined society. About the officers he had managed to take off the _Victorious_ and about the rendezvous point they had decided to meet at in two days time. About Nataleeh's father.

That last part was hardest to think about, he had to admit. Nataleeh had always been close to her father. As a matter of fact it had been he who had introduced them in the first place. For some reason he had taken a liking to Lieutenant Bendar, who had never managed to rise in the ranks of the Order, because of his father's treason. But Major Yoann Kafr had been impressed by Meelan's determination to make it despite everything that was thrown in his way. First he had introduced Meelan to his daughter and then, after their wedding not two months later, he had started talking him up to other high ranking officers. Eventually Meelan had gotten his first promotion and he knew he owed everything to the man whose death he now had to report to his only daughter.

The thought about what was awaiting him now mad his hands shake. Angry at himself for not being in control over his own body, he wiped his brow with his gloved hand. This was it. He had to get Nataleeh, their son and his mother and leave as quickly as possible. If the Republic got hold of the Order's records they wouldn't be safe here anymore. They'd know there was a First Order settlement here. Meelan didn't even want to imagine what would happen to them then.

As he approached the front door he thought of the last time he had been here almost a year ago. He hadn't been able to stay in contact with them. Not really, but he knew that Nataleeh and Morap were fine here. That they were safe. Thinking about this had been the one thing capable of calming his mind every night that the Order's demise was drawing ever nearer. The picture his mother had taken at his request had been resting over his heart underneath his uniform the entire time. The edges of the low quality paper, which had been the only one they'd had access to at the time, was frayed, but Meelan had never reprinted it. He would never, not once, let it out of his reach. He had stared at it every night. Had looked at Nataleeh's smile, had lost himself in her eyes and had been unable to take his eyes off the little boy she was holding in her arms. Little Morap. Looking at him and imagining him holding on to Nataleeh, whose eyes he had inherited, had made him want to turn his back to the Order so often, so he could return to them. He never had. Serving the Order meant keeping them safe. Keeping them safe was his number one priority, even if it meant missing out on his son's first steps and risking him not recognizing his father.

The door opened before he had even reached the front step. He stood still, just staring at her standing in front of him. The only thing separating them now was nothing but air. Nothing keeping them apart but that. His heart gave out for a moment as he took in her soft face, the dark brown hair falling over her shoulders. He saw that she was wearing some kind of deep cut dark green dress, but there was no way he could pay attention to that now. Her eyes were all he could see. Her eyes which were wide open, their irises the colour of chocolate, glistening with tears.

"Meelan," she whispered in a hushed voice and before he knew it she had taken that last step separating them and he felt her arms around his neck. Without a conscious thought he buried his face in her glorious hair, inhaling her sweet scent, willing to lose himself in her presence. As he put his arms around her delicate frame he felt her body trembling.

"It's alright..." he whispered back, fully aware that he was lying. Nothing was alright. Nothing at all. But still, for the moment it felt like it was. He had closed his eyes, pressing her body close to his and he knew that he wouldn't be able to let go of her for a very long time.

"Come inside...", she said after a while and pulled back, so she could look into his eyes. She hadn't changed since he had last seen her. She reached out to him, gently brushing her fingertips over his cheek.

He nodded slightly, put one hand on the back of her head and pulled her face closer to his. Her lips felt just like he had remembered them every night since his departure. Soft and sweet. Yes, they should go inside, but he felt like he was unable to move. Unable to let go of her. "How is Morap?", he asked, gasping for breath, when he finally managed to pull away. He needed to know. His son needed to be alright!

"He's asleep." Nataleeh brushed a stray hair out of his face, almost like she knew that he hated it, when his appearance was not as immaculate as it should be. "He's fine. He'll be happy to see you. I told him about you every night. About what you're doing for the Order."

Her words sent a shiver down his spine. What had he done? Nothing really. The only thing he had managed to accomplish was to get away. She let go of him, took his hand in hers and pulled him inside. It was she who was able to get him moving. Her strength and determination. "Nora went to bed hours ago." Her tone of voice was calm, but he sensed something else lurking behind it. Something which made his heart contract with a pain he had only ever felt once before. When his brother had been thrown to the ground by his mother.

"What's wrong?" he asked quietly as she, very gently pulled him up the stairs. He could see the light glow of a datapad in the living room facing the street. So she had been reading.

Nataleeh shook her head, putting a finger to his lips and pulling him up the stairs. His brother's old room lay straight ahead. The door was slightly ajar and he could see a stretch of wall on the far end of the room. Nataleeh didn't say anything, when he approached the door. She didn't need to. Meelan had put his son to bed in here before he had left to serve on the _Victorious._ It felt like nothing had changed since he had last been here, yet everything was different. The world had turned upside down. All was lost and yet he still had everything he really needed.

Gently he pushed open the door. The room had been transformed. There were drawings of flowers and animals on all the walls, which were illuminated by the moon's light shining through the window. With a pang he realized that they'd have to leave most of them behind. Meelan threw a look over his shoulder at Nataleeh, who had crossed her arms and was leaning in the doorway behind him. Her smile seemed to lift the sadness from his mind.

He turned back to face the room. There he was. His son. Little Morap, with his thumb in his mouth, lying on his belly, face turned towards the door. Meelan's heart leaped at the sight of the little boy, who was almost unrecognizable. He had grown so much! His face was still round, but the shape underneath the blanket was so much bigger than it had been the last time Meelan had seen him. Kneeling down next to the bed, he felt the burning in his eyes which he hadn't felt in forever. For the first time since Morap's birth he let the tears fall, brushing them away with something like impatience. The sudden warmth, the rush of affection for this little person drove everything from his mind.

Morap stirred, taking the thumb out of his mouth with a quiet smacking sound. Meelan suppressed a laugh, which quickly turned into a silent sob when he felt a slim hand on his shoulder. He pressed his cheek to her hand without taking his eyes off the boy, who looked so much like his namesake, it hurt. It was as if looking at his child was tearing him apart from the inside with heat and a trembling fear at the same time.

Her hair brushed his face, as she leaned over him and put her other arm around his chest, holding him tight. "Don't wake him up, dear," she whispered almost inaudibly.

Meelan nodded hesitantly after a while and he got to his feet again. Nataleeh's hand slipped into his as he forced himself to leave the room. His old bedroom had been his wife's ever since she had come here. The narrow bed was strewn with paper and pencils. Meelan wanted nothing more than to collapse on that bed, draw her with him and sink into blissful forgetfulness. But he couldn't. Not now. Only when he turned to face her again, did he realize that tears were still streaming down his face and he shook his head, angry at himself for displaying weakness. Even in front of her. "I'm sorry," he croaked.

"Don't be." Nataleeh's face was close to his again, but her lips didn't touch his. Not this time. It was as if she felt like he couldn't bear it. Not now. She led him towards the wide and worn out armchair and pushed him down to sit on it.

"We need to leave...", he whispered, resting his elbows on his knees and staring down at the beige carpet.

"Meelan?" He heard the slight edge of panic in her voice, but he didn't look up at her. "What-"

"Get your things. The boy's too. We need to go."

"But-"

"Now!" He raised his head, glaring at her. He had never raised his voice at her before, but he couldn't stand it. Not the note of desperation in her voice, not the fact that she wouldn't move. He had to get her, their son and his mother away from here.

She stared down at him with wide eyes. The necklace he had given her for their wedding was glinting softly in the moonlight. Had she been wearing it ever since he had left? He suddenly regretted snapping at her, but he couldn't take it back. Grunting she turned her back on him. Her shoulders were squared, her head held high and he realized that he'd have to face the consequences for what he had just done and he didn't want to fight. Not one bit. He watched her as she threw the closet doors open, grabbed a bag and threw it to the floor. "Fine!", she said with a sharp note in her voice, as she pulled out a drawer and put on her gloves. "Don't talk to me! It's not like-"

"Natleeh-" All the fight had gone out of him. With only a few words she had managed to do that. He couldn't remember fighting with her. Ever. Of course they hadn't had the opportunity to spend a whole lot of time together, but this had never happened. She turned around to look at him. Something in his eyes wiped away the look of anger and the frown off her face.

Slowly she walked towards him again. "You have to tell me what's wrong, or I can't help you, Meelan..." she said softly, sitting down on his lap and putting an arm around his shoulders.

Without fully realizing what he was doing he put a hand on her knee and pushed up the skirt of her dress. He was desperate. Desperate for her. Desperate to get out of this situation, if only for a few minutes. When her lips brushed his forehead he sighed and clenched the treacherous hand into a fist. This was not the time! He put his other arm around her waist, pressing his cheek to her shoulder and inhaling that sweet, wonderful scent again. The same perfume she had worn on their wedding day. He had to tell her. He had to tell her everything, but he didn't want to. It was the only thing to do though. She had to know. She had to know what had happened.

"How have you been?" He asked instead. It was easier to talk about that. At least for now.

"Alright," she answered in a whisper, her breath gently brushing through his hair and he closed his eyes. Her hand was on his chest. Feeling his heartbeat.

"My mother?"

She paused, apparently not willing to answer. Meelan remembered the day he had revealed to his mother what his son's name would be. Morap. Like his brother. Like the brother he had loved and lost. She had been furious for naming the boy after a traitor. Morap had been that, but he had also been Meelan's brother. No one in the Order even knew what had happened to the boy who had run away. His mother had spread the tale that he had died. Hung himself in his room, not able to bear the shame of being expelled from the Academy. Meelan had been furious with her, but of course he hadn't protested. It had spared them an inquiry. Naming his son after his brother had felt like a tribute, especially since he had found out that Morap had actually died in battle with the First Order. Meelan had never told his mother about his encounter with the pilot. Morap's former lover. The man who had told him things that had shaken him to his very foundations.

"Tell me...", he urged her.

"She hates him...", she said quietly after a while.

To his astonishment he wasn't at all surprised. "Because of his name..."

"She says he looks and behaves like your brother and she... she treats him like -" Her voice caught in her throat and Meelan put his other arm around her too, pulling her even closer. He could feel the pressure of her soft breasts and felt tears come to his eyes again.

"I'm sorry," he said again. He could imagine how his mother might behave towards his son and a sudden wave of fury caught hold of him. This was inexcusable! His mother hat no right to be rude to her son, or his wife. From all the things Nataleeh didn't tell him, he gathered that Nora Feedo Bendar had not been particularly hospitable to either of them. He knew his mother. Knew that she could keep a grudge for years and lash out at the least expected moments. "I shouldn't have brought you here."

"You're here now."

Meelan nodded. Yes, he was. And at that moment he knew that he would not take his mother with them after all. Not if she made his son's life hell.

"The Order was defeated...", he whispered and felt her fingers in his hair, her jaw on his temple. "Hours ago. I don't think we have a lot of time to get you to safety." He pressed his lips to her neck.

She had stiffened in his arms. "Do you know anything about the _Finalizer_?" Her voice was composed, but he felt her trembling in his arms.

"It was destroyed... I'm sorry."

He felt something drip on his head and knew that she was crying. Silently he held on to her, unable to move. For now he was glad just to be near her. Despite everything.

A soft, almost inaudible scratching sound reached his ears. Blinking he looked up at the low, black ceiling and for a moment he was wondering where he was. And then it hit him. The Order was destroyed. Gone. The weight on his chest was Morap. His boy. The thing brushing against his cheek his son's right arm. He felt the soft brown-reddish hair brush against his cheek, the warm breath on his neck. Morap was fast asleep after they the cough syrup Nataleeh had given him so he'd sleep through the flight.

He slowly turned his head to look.

"Don't move!"

He heard the smile in her voice and obeyed. He strained to catch a glimpse of her sitting a short way away on a chair, a drawing board on her lap. She met his eyes and her smile widened.

"I said, don't move!"

Meelan closed his eyes again. So this was it? This was what family life was supposed to be like? It felt alien. Like it wasn't a part of him. And it wasn't. Not yet anyway. But as he pressed his son closer to him and allowed himself to be enveloped in that unique smell of the child in his arms, he felt like it could be.

This story is part of my (though it's AuroraLynne's just as much by now) Unkown Limits series. I hope you liked this story even if you haven't read "The Pilot" or its upcoming sequel.

Special thanks go to AuroraLynne, who drew these wonderful pictures. Thank you so much! They inspired me like nothing else could! Please go and check out her tumblr: AuroraLynne .

I'd also like to thank my friend flausengut who was my beta-reader in this endeavour!


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